


SHE WAS THE UNIVERSE.

by roseredwritings



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Ghost Quartet - Malloy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseredwritings/pseuds/roseredwritings
Summary: SHE WAS THE UNIVERSE.Written by Artemis Redican.Inspired by the music of ‘Ghost Quartet’ by Dave Malloy.Essentially, this is a collection of six short writings inspired by the music and lyrics of ‘Ghost Quartet’ by Dave Malloy. Italicised parts are ones in reference to song lyrics he wrote, whether they be direct quotations or bits fiddled around for my own purpose. The majority of these relate to the 13th Doctor following the events of The Timeless Child reveal – not necessarily a twist I’m best pleased with, but it vibed with the songs, and I really loved writing this. They’re a mix of stand-alone ( For example, I included the Master in one in a blatant deviation from canon ), but in some ways, can be read in sequence. I don’t claim for this to be entirely in character, for I realise it spreads fairly away, but hey! I had fun, and this is free. Enjoy! And listen to Ghost Quartet.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. I DON'T KNOW.

She’d always been the one with the brains, effervescent with the knowledge. Bursting to the brim with spiralling knowledge of stars and galaxies, comets and the entire cosmos that was stretched out. Name a subject, she’d likely ace it, unless it was common earth etiquette or common sense- something she could at times lack, in spite of her gorgeous love for humanity, and all her time spent on their small but brilliant planet. But now, everything had been kicked askew, all the infinite knowledge she thought she had held dissipating into a crisis of identity. Who was she? So many lives had been lived and lost. So many faces that she couldn’t even calculate. So many years washed away. It was a terrifying thought, the idea that there had been so many other versions of her. Who was she, if she didn’t even know her own life? Part of her found it hard to connect to the lives shown to her by the Master, for, though deep empathy coiled up inside her, they were not her, she couldn’t see her as those lives. The Timeless Child- no. It felt so wrong. Everything tormentous lies. Spiteful. 

_Now I don’t know._

What did she even know? What was there to even believe? Was her whole story of a madman in a box who had kept running from home nothing but a short snippet of her life, was it all a lie? 

_But I’ve been told._

She had been forced to learn, told by him about the wretched truth of a lie Gallifrey was born from. Told, shown, but not known. Even now she couldn’t remember anything, scared to push too far back. 

_And that’s true of everything I think I know._

Maybe that was another part of her life. Everything she knew or thought she knew, just something she didn’t really know even now, just merely things that had been told to her, lies and false identities funnelled to her. Bullshit feeding time for the pain-ridden experiment. And even with the Master enlightening as to the grim truth of her life, it was just another moment of being told, told, told. Just like everything. 

_I don’t even know how to begin / I don’t even know who I am._

Where even to start considering? She felt herself to be a multitude of ignorance. Lilac of her hood faint against her shoulders, hands pressed against her hair, breathing tightly in, comprehending. Normally, she could try and take a grasp on the situation, top of the mountain in leading the pack, order of commands darted out with a determination. Now, though, she was like that lost little girl who had been taken away by Tecteun. Clarity was a wanted necessity, but instead, confusion swamped her, dragging her mind across the various faces now stamped into mind. Trying to understand them. It wasn’t a task she could understand, not knowing where to begin with them, which life to start with...so many details lost, only knowing the basics. There was no neat point of beginning when you didn’t even know who you were. Part of her tried to tell herself that she was the same as she had always been; The Doctor. Still, that wasn’t enough, for now, she knew she had held an abundance of identities prior to that. Her chosen title echoed around her as she tried to lock into that, hone onto that self, but the thought still crept in- the thought that she didn’t even know who she was. Was this how her fam felt meeting the woman who fell to earth, who they still knew so little about? She never told them anything but necessary…case and point with too many a companion past. All too common with regeneration, energy raging fire out of her as those she loved, considered family, witnessed in confusion and pain. She kept them in the dark a little too long, each time.

_I stay awake most every night, waiting for a glimpse to appear._

Time had passed since the death particle had been activated. It had been a while, but a while was never enough to cope with the knowledge. She didn’t need so much sleep as humans, but a fair amount was still required, which was something she had started to readily fail at. Most nights were just her, alone with the TARDIS, unable to sleep as she ruminated on her newfound past she still didn’t know. Just waiting for some sort of glimpse to appear. Some additional knowledge, a first-person perspective of her stolen memories, more context of how she had been the founder of their spliced DNA, even if she knew the memories of what she had endured as a child would hurt. She couldn’t see herself as those children. But her compassionate hearts yearned with an ache for them. Nights felt longer, impassable, impossible. 

_Where’s my ghost in the mirror? I want one too._

Fingers traced across the mirror that used to admire bold new looks, eccentric as her, many a jacket or long coat glanced upon in the large surface. Now, she saw gaunt eyes, devoid of her usual springing energy or any mask of it. She just wanted the mirror to show her answers, for the ghosts of her past to reveal themselves to her, rather than being forever gone. If she could give the ghosts of people back, let them reignite their lives with a purpose, why could she not have that? Why was the one who made people feel needed, feeling so lost?

_I’ve got a thousand one stories, every single one of them’s a lie._

Reality seemed intangible from dream now. A blaster to her head telling her that everything that she had ever known was a lie, and she couldn’t dredge the fact from fiction. She was not the Doctor; she contained multitudes. The question was, though, how many of her stories were real, and how much of her was just a puppet for the growth of Gallifrey? Her name was whispered in songs and awe across the universe, singing the song of the Doctor, a thousand one stories to ignite fear, admiration, protection, but all those tales about a madman in a box who ran away from home to explore the stars….they were nothing now. They were a lie. They were the most recent life in so many, in the founding of a nightmare. 

_When I was a child I used to play, play with all the voices in my head._

She wasn’t the Master, and voices hadn’t crashed and burned inside of her, but she could understand the screaming. The schism had been a terrifying feat to witness, enough to make the child run away when older, enough to make her friend go mad. And even she herself had heard some voices, whispers and ghosts swilling around. Every ounce of her other selves forgotten, but never truly gone, parts of them pulsing and pushing to escape. She used to play with her ghosts, voices propelling her on, to leave Gallifrey, to steal the TARDIS. 

_Long long ago, that’s not me anymore._

No, and it would never be her again, she felt. She would never be the woman she was before the revelation of the Timeless Child, so many children she had been. At the core of her, she was the healer still, the Doctor she had lived and loved being, but the new knowledge wouldn’t simply lay at rest with no differences. 

_Keep my head down, I’m all alone._

She couldn’t help but feel a heavyweight loneliness. Far as she knew, she was the last of both her kinds, not having an inkling as to the origins of her birth. Even with the Timelords, she was alone, all gone, the last ones alive converted, and then gone. Her oldest friend (as far as memory recalled), her most painful enemy, everything had turned so bitter between them, and it made their encounters all the worse. He was reliable enough to not be stopped by death, but this time, it felt permanent, and she had seen the longing for death in his eyes. Hands in pockets, head down, the loneliness cascaded cruel. Trying to move on with her days that kept pulling her down. Sarah Jane Smith had told her that she had the biggest family there was...men like Wilfred had promised to look up to the stars every night in thought of the Doctor, yet all that seemed futile and forgotten. Everyone had someone else, no one else was so lost as the woman who had saved worlds. 

_Someone who I used to be_

_Someone that I will be_

_Someone that I am right now_

Who was she anymore? 

_I don’t know._

A washed-up-ghost dreamt up to sing others safe to sleep. 

_Used to be, will be, I am right now._

_I don’t know._


	2. THE PHOTOGRAPH.

There is many a bad person out there, and there is many a good person out there. However, a fair majority of us are most likely to have our morality skewed towards the people. One person could be the saviour of the universe to so many, and then a destroyer of worlds to others. An oncoming storm brought differing views. That was the Doctor. Who turned ordinary people so proud and so valiant that they would sacrifice their lives for what seemed to be a greater good. They would go on dying; she would go on living. Sometimes, the sacrifice was a conscious choice on her behalf. She could feel the sting of one recent…the remnants of the human race. It had been her choice to save Percy and let the Cyberium escape, at the cost of all those lost in the war.

She had thought she was doing the right thing.

She had thought she was stopping so many timelines and lives from being screwed up.

And she had! She had kept things linear, and right, and well. But at a cost.

Seeing those lives in the future she had travelled to. Just another loss to be added to the infinite toll of the Doctor.

The lives and timelines saved didn’t stop the disgust swelling up inside, threatening to boil over as she sat by the doors of the TARDIS, legs swaying over, looking at a photograph of her and the fam. In their get-up for Villa Diodati, a photograph preserving the moment. It was quite beautiful, really. Still, _she threw it to the ground, disgusted by what she had done_. It felt too inappropriate to gaze upon now. It was taken just before she _chose to only be half a hero._

Girl, or ghost? Well, to be more precise, woman, or ghost. She hadn’t been a girl for quite some time. Apparently, she had also been a girl many a time. Looking at that photograph, picking up the crinkled copy, fingers traced across her own image. Shining bright smile, arms hung round Ryan and Yaz – Graham, they’d manage to loop into taking the photo. _Looking at that photo, she saw too many a ghost_. And all three haunted her. _Closing her eyes at night, she’d see the sadness of her own glaring back at her. Always screaming._ A ghost haunting her, who she used to be, who she could’ve been. Then, there was Ryan. He had been proof and evidence that night, of why she had to make her choice. So that he would be born. If she’d let Shelley die, he might never have been born. History might’ve been so different. Words, they so desperately mattered, and so did even a singular person. Their impact, their change. Cataclysmic.

Thoughts fractured in her mind as she clutched onto the photograph, no order to them as she stumbled from one to another. The screaming kept latching onto her thoughts…how many had screamed at night seeing themselves, what they had done, what they could’ve done? _Her daughter, her lover,_ her family, her companions, her everyone. Too many.

She needed to stop letting the ghosts consume her.

A deep breath exhaling in and out, she tugged her coat closer to her, breathing as she witnessed the swirling galaxies all around her. Trying to think of the small things she believed in. _The importance of sharing meals, delving into a bag of chips with her fam. Drinking coffee at home, rather than on the go, a quick boost to the system before the TARDIS started to throw them all over the place. The fact that the universe was so grandiose and beautiful, but so connected, one bright and breathing consciousness. Too many used books full of marginalia._

Her belief system always tried to break down. Softly, the ghosts shattered her, imperceptible shifts slowly tugging against her mind in a build-up to realisation and trauma.

The photograph rested in her hand. Fingernail scratches claimants of her hurt, shatters inside mimicked now on paper.

Not a hero.


	3. TANGO DANCER.

Once you’d escaped from the prison, bit of a nightmare situation to find yourself in, there was an entire world awaiting. She had world enough and time now, it seemed. Too many lives hanging immortal on her back. All of time and all of space at her fingertips, all the time to spend, but now, she felt blank and empty as to her wants.

Was this how they felt? All those that she picked up from earth to traverse the universe with her. She could hear the pleas of Donna all those near lives ago, not wanting to go back, back to just being a human, the temp, with no memories of saving so many. Just swaying in the wind, waiting to be picked. If anything, she, the Doctor, was quite the opposite, for she knew all the deeds she had done, and she was the founder of a whole race. And yet, she felt that emptiness and lacking also. Her purpose had been decided for her so long ago, and now she felt little.

“C’mon, Doctor, can’t stand to see you looking so glum over there! I get it, whole immortality thing can’t be the easiest to handle,” Hand swinging to rest against her back, a somewhat jovial tone coming forth from one Captain Jack Harkness as he addressed her. He’d helped, in her escape, and the truth had come out. Big time. It was fair to say that she had some…apologising to do, for words spoken in previous incarnations. She was the very thing she had been disturbed by in him. He’d been a good friend. He’d helped. Not dismissing now, but trying to get her out. The universe needed their Doctor. “But you can’t let it stop you living. So, we’re going for a ride- I know a sweet little dive, plenty of dancing and drinks. Not your usual planet-saving haunt, but I guarantee you’ll love it,” Broad grin flashing against him, trying to hide the concern within, it began to falter as a lack of response permanented the console room.

“Fine then. Alright,” Silence broken. Relenting, a sneak of her usual vivacity started to peel across, even if there was a numbness inside. “One condition. These,” Hand pointing across to her usual get-up, “Stay on,”. To get her into appropriate garb wasn’t the most common sight, and not now of all times was she willing to change. In her typical wear, she felt herself still. Even if she could try and be proud of the multitudes within her, there was a comfort in retaining the woman she was and still could be. Despite all the things she’d been shown, she was still herself, her clothes securing that notion safely within her.

“Seems like we’ve got ourselves a deal, then! Least your clothes aren’t half bad- let me tell you, I’ve had to deal with those on my team being down before,” Tensing of his face as he spoke of them, pain mixed in still whenever they came to mind, so many brilliant people he loved and lost, “And by god, the way they’d just want to stay in their pyjamas,”. A laugh coming from him as the TARDIS started to move, he leaned against it, holding on, “Which, if you ask me, look far better off,”.

Many a place in the universe demanded currency of different forms. Some wished for money, some wished for things of an emotional significance. Jack, contrary to these, had chosen one that chose stories as an admission. Stories, they were almost stardust in the power they had. The Doctor knew that more than anyone, it should’ve been easy for her to gain admission. She wove them through space. Regaled her fam with so many as she flurried through the TARDIS, pulling levers and pouring out anecdotes with such an ease. Just as she lived them, she gave them, and let others live their own story with the Doctor to pass on. A small moment that would be a lifetime of wonder for the receiver.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” The one working admission spoke. “ _Do I know you? You remind me of someone_ ,”. Distracting the Doctor back to herself.

“ _No, I’m from far away._ My name is the Doctor.” Reclaiming her name still, for no matter what it turned out she was, the Doctor would always be her.

“ _Don’t I know that name? From the stories_? _An ancient_ ” Brows raising with curious inquisition, flickers of thought wrinkled across the forehead, feeling that they knew that name.

“Maybe. Some might say she’s been _dead a long time_ , though,” Dead/Alive, dead/alive, dead/alive. Pick and choose what you wanted your timeless child to be. Oh, the irony in the final question. For she was more ancient than even she herself could realise, as recently she had been told. “Anyway! Back to business, what do you want?” Forcing herself to become chipper in an almost fearsome switch of moods to watch.

“ _Um, stardust_ \- a story- _just one piece_ , entry for the two of you,”.

“ _Hm. I wonder if I have any left. The amount of me I’ve given already is a pretty big number_ ,”. How could she give a story if all her own were never really her as she knew now.

 _“I always figured you could’ve gone on forever,”_ Jack intruded. It had always seemed that way.

 _“Nope. Not forever._ I guess I can use up one though,”.

A bustling room, a dancefloor, a bar. To any ordinary eye, it would’ve been magical. Tango dancing a central rhythm to the room, the wafting of memories from incarnations gone was inescapable. Hadn’t she been to a place similar to this? Her past live had spent too many years trapped in their own thoughts, no wonder snippets of worlds visited had unkindly neglected her now. Mind instantly setting to think over the location, eyes scanned around. Just one nice trip. Enjoyable. No trouble, no worry- and most importantly, no dwelling on what she always dwelled on. Wandering across to the bar, she leaned over, ordering some foreign drink as a finger tapped her on the back.

“Good story you passed on, back there. Though, let’s face it, way I’m gonna treat these guests, should’ve gotten entry for free – now, mind if I leave you for a moment? See, I think me and that guy over there might do well for a dance,” Wink passed in the direction of a male down some to the side, he turned back to face the Doctor, checking for an answer, instead of direct neglection.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m sure he’s a grand chap, go get him. Have a dance for me,” Lips curved into an attempt of a bright smile as the bartender passed her a drink. “I’ll just be…here,”.

So there she was. Even if her spirits didn’t burn so bright, it was good to see an old face upbeat enough. Classic Jack move to witness, charming the socks from some stranger in a bar. Typically, her travels didn’t extend to those sorts of locations – though, she’d had some fancy experiences lately, like that party at Barton’s – but it was a thriving enough atmosphere for her to wonder why she didn’t frequent so much. Perhaps it was because there was always some trouble she took her companions into. Her fam had a rough time of nipping away to some relaxing or vibrant environment, their visitation to Orphan 55 a typical example of what happened at those sorts of locations. Yaz was on a break for a while, but maybe when she came back…there could be a little less trouble. She’d still have to save the world, but she could also try and throw a little less danger in. She didn’t want to say goodbye to another. Ryan and Graham had chosen to wave farewell to the TARDIS and her. So many others had died or suffered a fate worse than, before they had the chance to say goodbye. Another example of things going wrong.

Shit. Things going wrong, just like her train of thought. There was a reason she tended to fill life with things, at times, and this came across as one of them. _Running through the sand. Campfire stars in the distance._ So many stories, the woman _swimming and singing on the moon,_ saving it. Distractions so that others wouldn’t see the sadness that hung in those ancient eyes. Sometimes, as she gazed into the darkness, wondering about the void, others would take a moment to look at her, and that glance would be a little too long. Just long enough to catch a sight behind the masquerade worn. There was something heavy in the aching that filamented layer moist with experience and age. It was in those moments that people would realise the true capacity of their Doctor. The woman they saw as some great saviour – well, she was what we would call human, also.

That look traced across her hues now. Now with even more of a purpose of sorrow. Even more ancient. Now she was _haunted by that memory of who she used to be._ Before. Before, even in the midst of everything, _she had been so gleeful, so blank as to the fate awaiting her – and so ready_. She’d managed to inject herself back to that woman temporarily, shot of adrenaline to stop the happenings on Gallifrey, and it had been so sharp, so energetic, just to feel that again. The state she wanted to become again _. That magic felt a little lost now. All her joy bloated and gone._ Nose scrunching, she tipped some of her drink back as she thought. She was in a bar, and there was something about dancing that could make one forget their mind – weightless and free, all for a short while. Maybe she ought to give it a shot.

It was then, when she made that choice to rise up from her seat, that she saw him. Or, as she would put it…she saw herself. Another regeneration, at least, skinny boy in a suit. No wonder she thought she knew the place…her footsteps had tread there before. All of the places…here she was, meeting herself at a tango. Perhaps time did not allow the crossing of her meeting, but she’d already met another self recently. What was one more to add to the list? She wanted to speak to this man. She remembered her time as him with a sad fondness. He had witnessed loss and grief also, specifically in those around him. She had felt those losses. Of course he also would need a dance after all. Just once dance, then, she thought, the want coming into her mind. Just one dance with the man who I once was, who will one day be me. It can’t hurt time too badly. Making her way across, trying to lighten the heavy gait of her shoulders, part of her was thankful he wasn’t the her who had adored bowties. He’d had a funny way of dancing – brilliant, but not entirely the tango.

“I have a feeling you and I both could do with a dance,” Hand outstretched, she offered it forward.

_But her younger self had no time for her._

“Uh, sorry to have to refuse- but places to be! People to meet!” That fast race of energy as his head titled and feet started to leave as if in chase.

Oh. _No time for someone so used up._ He had his reasons, she knew, but it all felt so sudden, so quick. _Turning to recline against a wall, she watched him leave, the woman all alone now. A woman who refused to lean there so empty and alone. So she danced alone_. Fluid and manic and slow, all in one gliding beauty to watch. The haunted woman of time.

Till her hand was taken by another so seemingly immortal. Except he seemed always to hold the same face ( unless rumours of Boe were true ).

“You’re the Doctor. You never have to dance alone…I know it feels wrong. Some messed up way of time, you and me, living for so long. But you’ll never be alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got us all.”.


	4. HERO / STARCHILD.

That woman waited still by her stars. Knowing she’d _messed up. Knowing she’d made a bad call._

But starting to accept that, in spite of all her mistakes, _there was nothing she could’ve done different. She_ couldn’t keep blaming herself for both her actions and her past, the two things that had dragged her down as of late. Ruminating on sorrows couldn’t last forever, even if it seemed like her life would. Who could make their bed in that woe for all their years?

She didn’t see it as forgiving herself too easy. Or accepting her past nonchalantly.

She was the Doctor, and she was healing.

It was a _little choice_ that sparked inside of herself, the lights in her mind fizzing once more. Forcing herself up and trudging through the universe till she started to realise. Becoming the woman she was as she saw the wonders of it beam past her once more. Dancing as she gazed at the stars. Remembering that she had visited the end of the world but seen people love and laugh still. That even at the end of the world, she had managed to save people. Whether it was an orphan planet, wars, or standing at a platform to witness it burn up…she had still managed to always save people who were part of her favourite world, even at the end of it all. It wasn’t all so bad, eh? In fact…most of it was rather good. And she would always remember those times. The Doctor was her, and she was the Doctor.

_A hero might not be something she always was or would be. No movie star_ with a picture-perfect ending, beloved. Oh, but what a _genius_ she was! Even a _monk_ from time to time…but ultimately, wasn’t she _the same as anyone else?_ Someone who could make mistakes but forgive herself and not bathe forever in the memories past. Some people said not everyone was _special;_ she would argue otherwise. The Doctor would argue that everyone, in their own brilliant and fantastic way…was just that. Special. She’d never met anyone who wasn’t. Perhaps then, she was also.

Heading inside, the doors lingered open. That beautiful universe, open canvas of stars and worlds, waiting for her, a reminder of the infinite potential. Not lost, but enriched. A glass of _bourbon_ poured, it was unusual for her to indulge too often with others around, but this- this was the time to not be that saviour. Even a Doctor needed respite from their patients, and so did she in her dwelling. Tracing the console lightly with her fingers, she soon veered away from the main feature, passing through a corridor till she found herself in front of that mirror she had earlier dragged herself to stare at. There was less sadness in her eyes – part of it had rusted away to anger, but also…to acceptance. Oh, what a _mess_ she’d been. She could see that now, a softness of a smile curling at the corner of her lips at the thought of leaving that behind to move forward.

There was never entire peace however. Coming to be content as she had been, grudges of her past seemed to reflect themselves next to her in the mirror. Strange things could lurk in mirrors. A little girl clutching a red balloon, for one. This, though, was not that figure. No, she knew this figure was not real, and yet she could almost feel him next to her all the same, deep purple jacket and raging eyes. If there ever was a set of two messes, it was the two of them, encircling one another throughout the history of time and space. _Screaming in the streets_ of all the universe against one another. He was cruel, and acted too great an opposite to herself. Yet she always tried to save him in the end. Always pleading, wanting to save him. He never took her hand. Still, he always came back. _Ice and rage in his eyes,_ he would always come, and inevitably, she would have to _raise a shield_ against him. Never a _sword_ , though, if she could help it. It was him who was the root of the reveal. Him who had stripped her from her for a time. He was the one who drove that train right through her heart. He thought that she was special; _She was not special, though._ In her mind, anyway, the revelation didn’t make her feel anymore special. _She was the same as him_. Her manner of being special was not her birth. Not how she was stripped of childhood, and so many memories. She was special for how she acted and chose to act. And besides- they were all special, she’d never met a soul not.

He wasn’t there. She knew that. The image of him she conjured up just another ghost, this one she felt some pain towards. Swig of the bourbon, she knew once more he was dead and gone. How long could she hold grudge against the dead _? Perhaps it was time to let the dead be dead. Time also, to put to bed her haunted thoughts._ Her sadness. Her loss.

There is a woman, and she is named the Doctor. And some choose to rise her above. To applaud, venerate. Some choose to slander and take arms against. _Strangers blessed her. It turned out, that even as a baby, she was blessed, in ways she didn’t understand._ Or, at least, she passed on the blessing of herself. This same blessing _that infected her with disbelief and blasphemy, never giving her a true holy land_ to name home. Gallifrey had always hurt for her, but all the same, it had been home. She’d started to realise it was not her origin. It was what she knew, though, and she would not erase who she was for the stories of others. She _could transcend. Vomit the loser out of her and continue to shine, lighting herself on fire_ to lighten the world. It was time, now. Time for that woman named the _Doctor to get out of bed, and be the starchild they could be. Her starlight was many a year old, but she was not yet dust._

****


	5. PRAYER.

_I will forgive myself for living in the dark._

It was easy to let the darkness envelop her in its bitter fumes. Easy to get lost in the cold arms it wrapped around someone a little lost and empty. She had let herself for too long, in this life, and the past ones they had been. It would always come for them in the end, the toll hitting heavy. It was strange, this darkness. How it consumed her because of so close factors to her own heart. The loss of herself rather than others. Actions of others rather than the dark deeds she had done.

_For my loss of wonder, for forgetting how to play._

The world and those in it were a marvel she always cherished to behold. In the middle of it all, though, she had lost sight of it all. Welling up in her own woe too great to let her see that, in spite of all that had happened, there was wonder and beauty still in the world. There was whole universes and beyond who she had touched, and who, in return, had touched her with their glory-kiss of magnificent beauty, both in heart and visage. Maybe she had forgotten to live light. Forgotten to play around and dance free when visiting the tango bar, no breeze of chatter in that accent of her. She could forgive herself, though.

_I will try to forgive myself for being absent in public and bored before stars._

It had been a while since she had truly been in public, traversing with glee in her eyes and the intention of an adventure. Often seeking a little more, though sometimes her plate ended up a little heaped. Part of her felt guilty for this doing, though she knew she could not save all the worlds at once. And, oh, the stars! How could she have been bored before the majesty of them? She had rooted herself amongst them, and found a home in them, yet as of late, they had worn her out to look upon. Forgiveness, though. She had to let herself feel better, and not throw more regret into the soul of her.

_For not remembering. For not being in my body._

Yes, she had not remembered so much. But that was not her fault. She had not chose to erase the multitudes she had been. That was not her decision, and though she felt guilt for those lives-been, it was something she could forgive herself for. To her present self also, she could forgive herself for not being present, in the moment, for disconnecting from the lives that she could remember so vividly.

_I will try to see myself as I am._


	6. THE TELESCOPE ( SIGMA ORIONIS AB ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, PRAYER, ultimately marked the end of the sequential writings, as they ended up being - I hadn't intended for them to flow like that, but it worked out rather well. This piece, as you can tell from the Master being present is fairly canon-divergent, and a standalone piece if he had taken the hand of the Doctor at the end of the Timeless Child. This also marks the end of the Doctor pieces of SHE WAS THE UNIVERSE.

Death had always been a heavy shroud trailing around the shoulders of a man who had pain fed into him since a young age, mind screaming and scorched by that damned untampered schism. The rage of it was unrelenting in his mind, the beating of drums a constant chaos flickering within. Another ruinous product of Gallifrey.

Life had always been a glorious beacon hanging too great a burden on the shoulders of a woman who had always tried to preserve it, to maintain that, just this once, people might live. Mistakes came her way too many a time, and she lost too much. A runaway from everything, who tried to remain spirited, joyful, but had too much stolen away, too much upon her. The shameful product of Gallifrey.

Trapped in a matrix of their own making, fearsome moments of contemplation roaring forth. Silence, initially. Hurt, anger, everything, distilled into them both. Soft hues glared, or found themselves fraught with loss and confusion. There was so much either one wanted to say to the other; so many multitudes of thoughts that they sunk into ignorance of the other.

“ _Sigma Orionis AB”._ Finally, one spoke, the Doctor speaking up, though she didn’t look at him yet. Fingers touched against the grass she sat upon, as her gaze flinched between there and the sea beating in the distance, contemplative. “ _Two stars, lost in time_ …like us, I guess, in a way,”. A swallow as she made an attempt to her normally franker yet light tone, it felt of little use. Mentally drained, half wanting to slap him, he had told too much, done too many cruel things. They had all of time to consider now, though. To get to the bottom of things. In the end she had saved him. The death particle destroyed the rest, but she’d made him take her hand, in spite of his own longing for the carriage of death to pull up by his side. “The last of our kind. Again,”.

At first, he refused to speak, grimace pulled taut against his oft-manic features that had become so hewn with soft sadness brimming over as of the events of late. Gaze steeled determinedly away from her own, he held too many grudges against his once closest companion, but another had just sprung. Oh…he had created a race of those unable to die, but that did not mean he wanted to live. Death was a harbinger bound intrinsically with him, and he craved the sweet end it brought. At long last, he had wanted it to come to him- and it was so close, sweet upon his lips. She had stolen even death away. Strange, how, even after all the woe he brought, she would never let him meet his end. Take my hand, she had spoken. Take my hand, even if you’ve had too many chances for me to offer you another. He had refused, classic flicker of a smile self-deadly and charming, but she had forced it regardless. “ _Our_ kind? Don’t fool yourself, Doctor, you know the truth now,” Mess of a voice was harsh, a cynical undertone embittered underneath. “Lost though, you’re all too right there,” A confession budded from his lips, the little lost boy who had lost himself in time at the age of eight.

Lips pressed together before releasing a tight breath- she didn’t know what to make of the past number of hours. In some sick, twisted way, it had seemed almost…a kindness, what the Master had told her. What he had done to Gallifrey, minus own gain through his hybrid creation, done in anger and pain because of their actions to her. She could tell that, but there was more to it, the insecure reasons he had mentioned, and spoke of again now. He knew now that they were even more distanced. Sanctimonious Doctor, done it again. A brighter constellation. It wasn’t bright or beautiful, what had been done to her supposedly, an experiment, denied her own story. But it still seemed to push her up on a pedestal, the woman who was the initial lifeblood of what their race had become. “Yeah, yeah, sure. But, we’re still Timelords. Bit of me in you, see. And…Sigma Orionis AB. That star, it shines brighter than the rest of its system. Just like the two of us, good or bad as our actions might be,”.

“You’re wrong,” He tried to jerk away the comfort offered, the kind words that suggested him to be good, he didn’t need her kindness. “It isn’t two stars, lost in time. Three,” He didn’t mention the other fact he knew as to the three. That they always came across as one, a singular force, three disguised as one, so interlinked.

“Well, I was close enough.” A hollow silence rang out once more. A sigh breathed out in a huff. Then, head darted across, sharp gaze dancing direct across to him, body shifting to point in his direction. Fed up of the tense talking, the bitter words, she wanted to slap forward movement and conversation, hit the root core of things. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes,”. Her voice commanded out, harsher than usual.

He was hesitant; he was the one to demand. But, in a motion almost too quick, he snapped around, voice seething as the knelt opposing one another, close in proximity. “There, but why? Oh, normally I’d want you to look at the monsters in my eyes, but why?”. Dismissive, cruel, tired.

“You claim that there’s monsters in there, but d’yknow what I see right now? I see pain…you claimed I was broken, but it’s always been you, Master.” Tone growing softer as she spoke, she kept her watch steady to his own eyes, refusing to flinch away from the swirling vortex of her once dear companion, who she had been at odds with for so long now. This battle, this recent event, it had been so different to their normal sort, and it left them both even more broken. This one, even with the Cyberman, had been a deadly personal fight, brewing on emotional and close levels, pulling on their shared history. And he had wanted to die, and she could see.

Breaths heating up, his trademark laugh whipped out crazed from him, pushing away her words, hand gesturing in the air as he slicked back a lock of his messed hair. “Oh, oh, oh! The Doctor thinks she’s one in more than name now, also? Trying to diagnose me? I’m not broken…look into my eyes, go on, look properly. I tell you what I see. _I see fire in the darkness, rage against the void…I see every time man raised his sword,”_ A venom rising prominent in the spewing of his words. Chaos reigns within still, never changing- the drums are on fire within. I’m not broken, I’m burning,”.

“Every fire burns out eventually. I saw it, you’re about to extinguish- you wanted to extinguish. You don’t want those sights,” She urged, pressing forward, her own hands snaking close to his forehead. Fingers pressed against his hair, palms resting against his sides, pressing in with a forceful gentleness. “Look into me, close your eyes” She shut her own, without even waiting to see if he would do so. A scoff arising from him, he reluctantly followed suit, tense shake soon running through his veins. _Mothers, weeping in chairs, clutching their shawls in the darkness_ , all the sadness that angered the Doctor, who tried to save everyone…at times, it felt like everything was lost, all is gone. “I know how you feel, Master, because I feel that pain _. I try to find the joy in life…but it’s wasting away,_ ” She confessed, head hanging down in a moment of shame as she released him from her hold.

“Sigma Orionis AB,” A mutter sprung from him, eyes shuddering open, meeting her own quickly. A finger moved under the crook of her chin, tilting her gaze up. “Perhaps you’re right… _I hate the way you see the world; I hate the way your soul sings._ Just as you hate mine. Just as we’re perhaps alone together. Two stars, together, burning brighter,”. His voice diminished bit by bit as he forced the words out, brows weary as he blinked.

Progress.


End file.
